


Dating, Derek Hale and Other Things That Stiles Never Thought Would Go Together Well But Do

by fandomsandcake



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, First Date, Humor, M/M, Shut Up It's 1am And I Don't Know How To Tag Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomsandcake/pseuds/fandomsandcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek go on a movie date. It’s awkward, until it’s not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dating, Derek Hale and Other Things That Stiles Never Thought Would Go Together Well But Do

**Author's Note:**

> This is horribly un-beta'd and only edited by me at one in the morning which in hindsight probably isn't a good idea but oh well. This is dedicated to Ashley, a.k.a. Twitter user @jenseggackles because I don't hate her and she likes Sterek and it was her birthday once and people deserve nice things.

“Please,” Derek mutters, “tell me why I agreed to this.”

There are three things Stiles thinks should be made particularly evident about the whole _possibly, maybe, definitely more-than-a-bit gay for Mr Literally-An-Alpha Male_ thing, and possibly recorded for anyone else who ever finds themselves in this unfortunate and yet totally-great-at-the-same-time conundrum of sorts. 

One: persistence is a man (or, teenager’s) best friend, and may involve one getting themselves pushed up against the nearest hard object in a way that is more painful and bruising than sexy more times than one should be comfortable with, but hey. Two: said persistence pays off in the long run, but unfortunately also results in large amounts of brooding, moodiness, an incessant furrowing of eyebrows and _what_ _the_ _hell_ who’s Stiles kidding, that’s basically just Derek. And Three (which possibly outweighs one and two completely, leaving them nothing but murky, insignificant blots on the horizon): dating is _awesome_. Dating a literal-Alpha-male who also happens to be a hot-as-hell werewolf whom Stiles may be more-than-a-bit gay for is awesome. In fact, awesome doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how… how _awesome_ it is.

“Because I’m awesome,” Stiles summarises as he takes the movie stubs from the guy behind the counter. “Admit it, you’re pumped to be here. How many guys get the chance to take the one and only Stiles Stilinski to the cinema? None. Except you. So one. Derek Hale. That’s you. Because you’re Derek Hale and that makes you very lucky because you get to take me on a date, which makes you not part of that zero,” and okay, maybe he’s nervous and maybe he has a tendency to ramble when he gets nervous, but he blames Derek and the way he won’t stop _staring_ at him, and his stupid menacing jacket and stupid black t-shirt and stupid eyebrows. “You know that whole _tall, dark, mysterious hero_ shtick isn’t fooling anyone, right?” he finishes, shoving the freshly purchased box of popcorn at Derek, who stares down at it like it’s done him a personal wrong.

Derek’s eyes flicker between the popcorn and Stiles for a moment before he raises a single eyebrow. The Eyebrow of Impending Doom. Coincidentally enough, it’s also the eyebrow of Funny, Tingly Feelings in His Gut That Stiles’ Doesn’t Think About, but he doesn’t think about that. 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek says, turning and skulking off.

“Hey, we’re on a date!” Stiles calls, jogging to catch up. “You’re not allowed to skulk on dates.” 

Derek freezes midstride but doesn’t actually turn around to look at Stiles, which _rude_. “Oh my god you’re the worst date ever aren’t you?” Stiles murmurs, head falling down to his chest. “You’re one of those dates who are completely hostile the whole time and pretend to hate it or – oh my _god_ do you hate it? You hate it don’t you? Did you only agree to this because I kept asking? This is the _worst_ date I’ve ever been on.”

“This is the only date you’ve ever been on,” Derek reminds him pointedly.

“Shut up!” Stiles replies sharply. 

There is a momentary silence, the air growing gradually heavier, more awkward; both of them completely lost as to what to say, a thousand possible ice-breakers and _no Stiles you don’t completely suck except you kind of do_ ’s and things that Stiles would like to say except won’t because, hey, it’s their first date and he’s not going to ruin it by being all sappy and sentimental, hanging just out of reach.  

“I do want to be here,” Derek says, his face impassive, and Stiles is shaken sharply out of his daze.

“What?” 

“I do want to be here. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

Stiles blinks. So apparently he doesn’t completely suck then. Or maybe he does and Derek Hale, Mr Literal-Alpha-Male just has a soft spot for people who are absolute losers and don’t know anything about dating or relationships or boyfriend’s and _oh my god is Derek his boyfriend?_

“You’re projecting,” Derek says, staring down at him from his very superior four-inch vantage point. “You do realise,” he continues slowly, “that I’m the Alpha. I can _smell_ you having a crisis.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Stiles hisses, slapping Derek on the shoulder and then realising that _crap_ that was probably a Very Bad Idea and freezing with his hand still suspended awkwardly somewhere between Derek’s shoulder and not. 

Instead of ripping his throat out with his teeth (and the fact that that isn’t a metaphor really should make Stiles’ rethink whom he decides to have feelings for), Derek fixes him with a look that is somewhere between absolutely condescending, mildly pissed-off and _fond_.

“Shut up,” Stiles says again, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth because food solves everything. 

He wipes his hand on his jeans and it very-nearly gets awkward again, but then Derek says, “You know, it wouldn’t be awkward if you weren’t making it awkward,” except he doesn’t sound angry, his tone oddly soft, and Stiles remembers that Derek is just about as new to this whole dating thing as he is. It really hits Stiles that Derek – just because he pretends to be all mature and grown-up – has never really been in a functional relationship, and probably feels like he’s treading on ice as well. And as well as being a scary, broody, sourwolf who runs an entire werewolf pack (comprised solely of angsting teenagers), Derek is just a _guy_. A guy who, for some unknowable reason, agreed to come on a date with _Stiles_.

So as could be imagined, Stiles almost has a heart attack when he feels something warm pressing itself into his palm. It takes a moment for his brain to sort through the initial _holy hell_ and then he realises that’s it a hand, Derek’s hand, and that he’s holding hands with the Alpha werewolf. 

“What’s that?” he asks like the intelligent person he most certainly is, staring down at where Derek’s hand ( _Derek’s hand_ ) is almost shyly clasping his.

“It’s a hand, Stiles,” Derek says, voice as emotionless as usual, but when Stiles looks up he could _swear_ that Mr Sourwolf is fighting off a smile.

“I’ll start regretting asking you out if you keep being a smartass. Stiles? Smartass. Derek? No. _Nein_. Whatever _no_ is in Ancient Greek, because you know, that’s where the whole werewolf thing started, except I mean you’d already know that obviously but that’s not the point! You’re supposed to be _nice_!” he finishes weakly, and yeah, he really needs to work on the whole rambling thing.

“I never agreed to be nice,” Derek says, and now he _is_ smiling, a definite, sure as hell, actual smile, the Eyebrows of Impending Doom quirking up and his eyes crinkling and Stiles thinks he actually dies a little bit inside. 

“Shut up or I’m breaking up with you.”

Derek, much to Stiles’ surprise, doesn’t even bother to point out the fact that no-one spoke about this being a semi-permanent thing, something more than a single, almost-platonic trip to the cinema. Instead Derek just shakes his head and gives Stiles another one of those tiny, almost-invisible, Derek Hale smiles that make him want to curl up in a ball and die and says, “No you’re not,” and no, he isn’t.

And so Stiles’ fiercely ignores his cheeks turning red, and fiercely ignores the fact that Derek doesn’t let go of his hand _once_ during the movie, even when Stiles gets all clammy and gross because the zombies look really freaking real, and werewolves are one thing but _zombies_ exist on a whole other, infinitely more terrifying level. He also fiercely ignores the fact that when Derek drives him home he’s actually smiling, like he maybe enjoyed this a whole heap, and fiercely ignores the fact that _he_ enjoyed this a whole heap, and fiercely ignores to the point that he deserves a goddamn medal the fact that Derek walks him to his door and kisses him once, softly, almost imperceptibly on the cheek before bolting down the front lawn and into his Camaro and away into the night, leaving Stiles frozen on his porch. He fiercely ignores the bubble in his stomach and the sheer exhilaration that fills him from the bottom up, just as he fiercely ignores the fact that _okay_ he’s maybe got it really bad for Mr Literally-An-Alpha, Derek Hale. 

But who’s he kidding? In no universe is Stiles either fierce or actually good at ignoring _anything_ and so the next day when he finds a note in his locker that reads ‘ _I expect a second date. Maybe I’ll even kiss you properly this time. Brush your teeth_. _– Derek’_ he doesn’t even bother trying to deny that he’s awesome, and Derek is awesome and this whole thing, this slowly forming _something_ , built from nothing, growing with unwavering uncertainty, striving to be something tangible, is more awesome than maybe anything else’s he’s ever had going for him. And that’s awesome.  


End file.
